


The Manliest of Men

by littleotter73



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-16
Updated: 2013-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-25 18:06:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/641570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleotter73/pseuds/littleotter73
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>DS Ray Carling is manly, he knows this, he takes pride in it, drinking and hanging with his mates, and dusting up the scumbags who defile his city. But he’s not the manliest. No, that distinction goes to the Guv.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Manliest of Men

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to rebelxxwaltz for the beta help and the constant nagging. Also for dragging me kicking and screaming into this fandom and refusing to write this prompt that I gave her for the advent calendar so that it eventually became my responsibility when it wouldn’t leave me the hell alone. It started out cracky, but at her refusal the damn thing kept niggling at my brain and turned out to become a legit fic. There are a few firsts in this fic for me. 1) It’s my first LoM fic (obviously) 2) It’s the first fic I’ve ever written in the present tense, and 3) it’s the first fic I’ve written that is semi-slashy (sorta). So, thanks LoM fandom. :)

 

The Manliest of Men

 

Ray relaxes and sits back, taking a deep breath. He’s not sure how they do it, but there seems to be a hint of something minty in the steamy air, or maybe menthol-y. Doesn’t matter, it helps open his lungs in ways cigarettes do not, and yet he almost gets the same satisfaction from it.

 

His life is good. It isn’t the military life his father had or his father had even wanted for him, but it’s good. He fights the good fight, carries a gun, cleans the streets of the scum of society, and even gets to rough them up a bit; and on the odd occasion, he’s even gotten to kill one or two. Yes, he’s a soldier too, albeit a domestic one, keeping the population of Manchester safe day and night. And if someone occasionally was wrongly accused, well, these things happen and it probably was some scum bastard who deserved it anyway.

 

The manliest of men. That’s what he is.

 

He grins with satisfaction, but then quickly scowls, looking around the hazy, steam filled room. The manliest of men don’t smile in the steam room, even if they are alone. The steam room is a time for camaraderie, but words are rarely spoken. Silence isn’t just expected, it’s an unwritten law, not to be broken.

 

Back in Roman times, senators would often conduct business in the baths. ‘ _Bloody poofters_ ,’ he smirks with contempt, ‘ _I know what sort of business they were conducting_.’ And on the continent, men often conversed in the public baths. ‘ _Foreigners_ ,’ he sneers. Maybe it happens in other places in Her Majesty’s domain, but it certainly didn’t happen in Manchester. The baths are a place of quiet solitude with ones mates. None of that funny business. No, sir!

 

Yes, he is one of the manliest of men. Sturdy, rugged, and robust.

 

In his line of work, there is no room for pussies, that’s for sure. You can’t count on cowards to have your back when your life is on the line. Skelton is a mess most times, but Ray knows he is trustworthy, that the lad has his back. His Guv runs a tight ship, chose good, brave men to fill his department.

 

The Guv. His Guv is _the_ manliest man he knows. His DCI. Gene Hunt. Ray shifts on the marble slab. The heat is starting to get to him and he picks up one of the spare towels to wipe his face and chest. Yes, the Guv is one of the most respected and feared people Ray has ever known. And Gene Hunt certainly deserves that respect... and fear. His mere presence is enough to intimidate. He dominates every situation, and if a perp fails to provide him with the knowledge he needs, the Guv will get his answers one way or another. It was an art form, really, how Gene would dust up the baddies and extract the information needed for conviction. It always leaves Ray itching to get into the fight, and he is always ready to jump in should the Guv need him, which usually he doesn’t. 

 

Ray takes another deep breath, crosses one leg over the other and rearranges his towel, thankful for the privacy in the empty steam room. Oh yes, there’s a certain satisfaction in watching the Guv work a bloke over. The steely blue stare. The set of his jaw. The raw physical power as he shoves a man into the lockers. Once his sights are set, he always takes down his prey. Gene Hunt truly is the Manchester Lion. Fierce. Proud. His roar the loudest. And when the Lion roars, there is nothing to do but sit back and watch in admiration or take it if his ire is directed at you. Ray constantly makes extensive mental notes, not that he needs to, for he is one of the manliest men. A master at running his own perps to ground and getting them to talk. A workhorse. And the Guv  knows he can count on him, he just rarely, if ever needs to.

 

The thought of such violence always gets Ray worked up. Admittedly, watching it did too. He drags his hand discreetly over his hard, towel covered erection and bites back a moan. Maybe a touch here or there wouldn’t hurt. After all, the place is deserted and full of steam. If someone walks in, they’d be hard pressed to see what he is up to and he has the advantage of being able to hear the door squeak as it opens before anyone could catch him having a quick wank. Not that he’d let himself get off. No, that just isn’t right. That would have to wait.

 

He lets his mind wander back to the Guv and his mates. After a hard day out on the beat, they will meet at The Railway Arms, share a tale and a pint or two, counting coup, reliving the days events. A tale of a good dust up is always met with a shot of whisky and anyone sporting battle wounds is immediately taken under the Guv’s wing. It is Gene’s way and neither Ray nor the others ever dare to miss an evening at the pub, blowing off steam with the Guv. Most of the time, it is a manly camaraderie, with Gene holding court - holding dominion over his pride with all the younger lions knowing their place, but there are times when Cartwright or Phyllis will join them. Their presence isn’t unwelcome, but it changes the dynamic and messes with the bond within the male dominated ranks, especially with Skelton and a few of the younger guys attempting to be chivalrous and deferential. Women’s lib, barmy! Why can’t they bloody well go off and do women’s things after work and leave the men of CID to drink and take the piss?

 

He sits alone in the steam room breathing in the medicinal air, lazily running his hand up and down his shaft in that perfect state of relaxed arousal. Oxymoron that is, but there you have it.

 

The door creaks, announcing a visitor and Ray straightens up and shifts his body to hide his disheveled state. It is easy to do with the two extra towels he had brought in with him. Bunching one in his lap, he removes the other from around his neck and wipes his head and face again as the imposing figure of Gene Hunt steps into the room.

 

It had been a particularly rough day on the beat and at the station, and none had dared risk crossing the Lion’s path. No, best let the man take his frustrations out on the bastard scum in the cells.

 

“Guv,” he says, immediately realising he has broken the first rule of the steam bath. Bracing himself, he waits for the tirade of vile epithets and insults his superior will likely send his way. 

 

“Raymondo,” the Guv growls. It’s a warning to follow the rules, but softened by the use of the pet name Gene has given him, and Ray leans back against the wall in an act of submission. The Lion doesn’t need to roar to be heard.

 

Gene surveys the room, hooks his thumbs into the starched white towel hanging around his waist, and then settles himself down on the bench opposite Ray. Some of the steam has subsided, but it will kick on again in a little while. Ray watches as Gene stretches out his back, blows out a big sigh, and leans back against the wall before dragging both hands through his hair.

 

Silence hangs in the heavy air for several minutes.

 

“Where’s Skelton?” Gene asks in an irritated tone, crossing his arms across his chest.

 

“Dinner with his mum,” Ray replies, keeping his response minimal. No sense in pressing his luck.

 

“Just us then.” It isn’t a question, just an observation.

 

“Aye.”

 

Silence falls again as the steam machine kicks on with a clatter. Gene tilts his head against the cooler tiles on the wall, and brings his leg up to rest his ankle across his knee. The action causes his towel to shift and doesn’t go unnoticed by Ray who is keenly aware of his superior’s presence. How could he not be? After all, Gene Hunt is the manliest of men, king of the Manchester jungle. The Guv squints his ice blue eyes, taking in his surroundings one more time before closing them, his arms still firmly crossed over his chest. Ray knows this is as relaxed as Gene gets.

 

Ray fidgets on the bench. He is still hard and with the Guv sitting across from him exuding waves of power, the problem is getting worse. Also not gone unnoticed is the fact that Gene’s sitting position has raised his towel enough so that Ray has a good look at his DCI’s bits and pieces. And to say he is impressed is a bit of an understatement. But in the back of his mind, he isn’t surprised. There was a reason Gene Hunt holds other men in thrall. Why he intimidates people so. He projects an aura of power and virility that stops other men short.

 

It feels like the temperature in the room has gone up exponentially. It certainly is rising with the steam building in the room, and Ray squirms uncomfortably. He knows it is more than that. He is rock hard at the sight of the other man’s cock resting against his thigh, semi aroused.

 

Now most healthy virile males love watching porn, watching another man give it to a bird or watching a chit go down on a man. There’s power in that. Power in that man as he fucks a woman. And Ray is as red blooded as any other male. More so. He is, after all, one of the manliest of men.

 

He’s been single for a while now and has no release outlet other than his hand, though on occasion he’s been known to visit a brothel or two. His status as a DS gives him special privilege, and he’s not above taking advantage of it. And when the DCI calls for a raid of one the brothels, he always protects his special interests, taking care of his favourites. It’s a healthy relationship and has helped him in closing out a few cases over the years.

 

Ray desperately wants to grab his cock. It throbs beneath his towel begging for attention. The steam continues to rise, but not fast enough to create a concealing fog between him and his hero. Yes, he worships Gene, and he begrudgingly admits that he would do anything for him. His eyes fall back down to glance beneath the towel. The Guv is harder than he was before and Ray can’t resist touching himself any longer. Thankfully he still has the extra towel bunched in his lap and he slips his hand beneath, squeezing and getting some relief from the aching throb pulsating through his shaft.

 

Christ it feels good! Ray takes in the sight of Gene Hunt’s cock, rising to attention as he discreetly pumps his erection. There is nothing he wants more in that moment than to explore his superior officer’s cock. It’s an unwelcome thought, but he’s unable to suppress the erotic thoughts. Gene Hunt is the manliest man he knows, and no other man has produced these conflicting feelings before.

 

That at least provides some comfort as Ray closes his eyes to the mental image of him sucking his superior off. He can almost hear the moans of ecstasy as he brings the Guv closer to completion. How Ray longs to feel and taste the true power of the Lion, to have the Guv really, truly want and need him.

 

He is unable to hold back the groan as it escapes his throat. He hears the sound of a throat clearing and his eyes shoot up, meeting the pale blue gaze of his superior. Panic spreads through him like wildfire and he’s unsure of the retribution he’s going to receive from his DCI. Unfortunately the thoughts don’t help the situation. The idea of being punished only make the things worse. In a way, Ray craves it. He wants the attention, it doesn’t matter whether it’s negative or positive.

 

Gene stares at him, his jaw set and his ice blue eyes narrowed to slits. Ray considers a retreat to the showers, only it’s communal, so scratch that. One of the manliest of men would not parade his erect todger around for all men to see. He reconsiders and plots a retreat to the toilet stalls to seek the release he so desperately craves. Ultimately, he stills his hand and waits for the beating to commence. Only it never comes. Instead Gene drops his hand and hikes up his towel a couple inches, giving Ray a better view.

 

Ray knows it’s an invitation, but he’s not sure to what, and his nerves are on edge. Gene crosses his arms again and leans his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. Ray relaxes, knowing his DCI has given him permission to proceed. The steam is rising and starting to obscure his view, but he can see that Gene is fully erect now, thick and red, burning its way through the steam and fueling his fire.

 

He’s tense, on edge, and knows he’s been granted a reprieve. Never push the Lion, and yet he has. Ray doesn’t dare to push further though, and squeezes and strokes his shaft, half listening for the door while he listens to the sound of Gene’s uneven breathing. A half smile crosses his lips, but only for a second as he realises that he has an affect on the manliest of men. It’s enough to push him closer to the edge and he strokes himself harder and faster until he comes with a raging force into the spare towel, choking back the primal scream he wants so desperately to let out. But he’s in a bath house, and in Manchester, it’s just not done. Instead it comes out more like a low menacing growl and he leans back against the wall spent, giving himself over to the aftershocks.

 

He spares a look at the Guv, his body now veiled by the steam, but Ray can see that he is still tense, his rampant cock now purple under the onslaught of sex permeating the steam room. Ray wonders if he’s made a mistake in taking care of himself and not sucking off his superior officer.

 

The next few moments tick by slowly as Ray recovers. He’s still unsure of himself and where he stands with his DCI. He stands on wobbly legs and glances quickly at Gene. His posture is closed off, and Ray decides its best to leave the steam room.

 

He heads for the door. “Guv,” he says, his voice low and full of reverence.

 

“Raymondo,” Gene answers, only this time there is no growl.

 

Ray smiles as he opens the door, but quickly hides it. There are men walking about in the locker room. A smile would raise their suspicions and he needs to protect himself and his Guv. Their reputation and their lives depend upon it.

 

For they are the manliest of men, fierce as lions, and just as proud.


End file.
